


Prove It

by brynna



Category: House M.D.
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-01
Updated: 2010-06-01
Packaged: 2017-10-09 20:36:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/91350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brynna/pseuds/brynna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Title: Prove It<br/>Author: Linda, Brynna, Brynnamorgan<br/>Rating: NC-17<br/>Characters: House/Cameron<br/>Warnings: A little BDSM. As usual. Actually, for me, kinda tame BDSM. Oh, and smuttage. Get the pantiliners out, ladies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prove It

**Author's Note:**

> Standard Disclaimer Stuff: The "House MD" characters presented herein, Dr. Gregory House and Dr. Allison Cameron, belong, unfortunately, to David Shore and the Fox Network. Does anyone seriously think I could be making money from this drivel?
> 
> Posted for the first HC Smut-A-Thon Challenge. We had to begin with one of three lines and incorporate those awful maroon stockings, aka "maroon stockings of d00m" into the fic. Plus the fic had to be at least 1000 words in length, which given that I yak a lot, wasn't a problem.
> 
> Stacy's gone, hubby in tow, leaving behind the chaos she created. Ding Dong, the witch is dead. Champaign, anybody? I'd say this one is quite awhile post-Botox Queen

* * *

_“I've been loving blind  
Loving every heart I could call mine  
I've been loving blind  
So sure there was something I could find  
But I just couldn't see  
There was nothing there for me” – Clint Black_

* * *

Prove It

She was going to make him pay, and pay big.

She’d had enough of his cruelty, of his tossing her heart around like the ball he bounced against the walls of his office. Now he was standing in front of her, one hand braced on the doorframe of her front door, the other on his cane, not making eye contact with her in that way he had when he was reluctant to express what was going on inside of him.

_So what was he doing here now?_ she thought, exasperated. Enough that he beleaguered her at work, that he’d started giving her long, lingering looks when he thought nobody noticed. After Stacy had left she had vowed to stay as far away as possible. Only there he was now, standing in her door, stunned that she’d just rejected his asking her out.

He was focusing his eyes down, taking in those damned maroon stockings she was wearing. _If she was trying to hide her legs from the world, she was doing a helluva job,_ he thought morosely. Those fucking things screamed “Don’t look at me!” and if he didn’t have a mini-war raging in his gut right now, he wouldn’t be.

“You just don’t trust me.”

“I can try.” Each word was bit off, raspy.

Silence. His heart sank, his hands aching to reach into his pocket for his pills._ No. Stand and take it like the man you haven’t been. It can’t be too late for me._

_It just can’t be._

“I can try.”

He wanted to move closer to her, but couldn’t. To step across her threshold would change everything.

He didn’t see the slight widening of her eyes at his words.

_Damn, next he would be begging. How much pride was she expecting him to lose?_

_The same amount he’d cost her._

“Prove it.”

“Uhm... how... prove it?” _Quit stuttering, dickhead_.

He glanced up just in time to see her roll her eyes, causing him to cringe inwardly. _Okay, back to the maroon stockings._

“You heard me. Prove it.”

He swallowed. Hard. “Okay. Short of murder.”

Her laugh was genuine, and he finally allowed himself to make eye contact with her. Those green eyes were sparkling with delight.

“Oh, you won’t have to murder anything. Except maybe your stubborn pride.”

He jumped when she laid her hand on his chest, then traced a fingernail down to his beltline. That same wandering fingertip skittered across his zipper, wringing a tight moan from his throat. As abruptly as she’d touched him, she pulled back, one brow raising thoughtfully. Weighing a decision. Then she nodded, her eyes raking over him seductively.

“One night. I’m in control.”

His heart slammed into his chest. Surely, she didn’t mean... did she?

“Yes, that’s what I mean.” Now she looked mischievous when she echoed his thoughts. “I’m in control, and you have to trust me.”

“I... always had you pegged as a bottom.” _Oh shit! Now she knows. Nice touch, moron._

“But I have _you_ pegged as a top,” she replied sweetly. “Time to turn the tables. If it’s me you want, anyway.” She stepped to within a bare inch of touching him. “The ultimate trust. You prove to me that you can trust me. If not...” She pointed over his shoulder. “You know where the door is.”

“I’m standing in it,” he tried to snark, wishing it didn’t sound as lame as he felt. She rolled her eyes again, only that time with humor. He took a deep breath, then said, “Conditions.” Which, he thought, sounded idiotic given the position they were in, but he needed _something_ concrete to stand on.

“Ah, conditions.” This could be... interesting, she decided. _Payback’s a bitch, but at the same time, it can also be very fulfilling. _“Very well. The second you step through that door, you’re mine for the night. I’m in charge and you do as I say, when I say it. Understand?” He nodded mutely, his gaze dropping from hers. _Again._ She repressed a sigh, thinking that with any kind of luck he’d quit doing that before the weekend was out.

“I will call you Gregory, and you will call me Mistress Allison.”

Another nod.

“Your safeword is asparagus.”

He wrinkled his nose. “I hate that shit,” he muttered, getting a soft laugh from her.

“Good. You’ll remember it, then. And Greg?”

“Yeah?”

“That safeword is for a reason. If something is wrong I need to know.” Her blue eyes penetrated his. “Understood?”

This time he held her gaze as he nodded. “Understood.”

“I want you to feel safe when you’re with me. Protected.” She reached up to lay her palm against his cheek and he unwittingly leaned into it. _So soft_, he thought, savoring the faint whiff of jasmine that came from her.

“Now, go get whatever you need for a sleep… over.” Her smile became impish as she traced his cheek lovingly. “Robe, jammies, change of clothing…”

“Condoms.” That time he managed a leer, getting a chuckle from her.

“Of course.”

* * *

Once House left, Cameron sank onto the sofa and buried her face in her hands. Dear God, what was she letting herself in for? she wondered, trying to still the butterflies in her stomach. It hadn’t been necessary. All she needed to have done was let him in the door and see what transpired.

Then again, where Greg House was concerned nothing was that simple. For him trust was on a need-to-know basis. To just sweep him through the door for a roll in the sack… nope, wouldn’t do. _Prove it._

She smiled wryly. She wasn’t the only one that needed proof. Bearing that thought in mind she rose from the sofa and began to make preparations for the night ahead.

* * *

_“Looking for the feelings  
That used to tell me something's wrong  
Like all the doubts  
When love sent shivers down my spine  
But all I'm feeling  
Is pure and simply we belong” – Clint Black/Hayden Nicholas_

* * *

House took a deep breath, then lifted his cane and knocked it on Cameron’s apartment door. _What lay beyond? Whips and chains and leather, oh my!_ he mentally snarked, closing his eyes briefly. _Dammit, woman, answer the door and get it over with._

Finally he couldn’t stand the silence another moment. He tested the doorknob out of reflex and to his surprise it turned. His brows shot up, his heartbeat quickening as he cautiously opened it and let it swing open. “Cameron?” he said softly into the darkness. _No response. Had she changed her mind? Or was this part of_… his eyes shut for a moment as he absorbed the idea. _Trust.__ Step into the dark and trust her._

Slowly he stepped forward and shut the door behind him. He’d crossed the line. Finally.

“Mistress Allison?” The words came out raspy and he cleared his throat.

“Very good, Gregory.”

He hadn’t known he’d been holding his breath, he thought ruefully as he let it out. The caress of her hand on his chest caused him to startle and elicited a wicked chuckle from her, one that shot through his nervousness straight to his groin. Her scent reached him again, that of jasmine mixed with womanly musk. A sudden urge to push her against the door and take her overwhelmed him; he forced the thought, as pleasant as it was, to the dark reaches of his mind. _Another time_, he promised himself savagely.

Cameron’s hand slid up to his shoulder then down to his left hand, which she lifted to her right shoulder as he felt her turn. “Come with me, Gregory,” she commanded softly.

“Yes, Mistress Allison.”

He shuffled next to her, his heartbeat picking up with each movement; and unless he was mistaken, parts of his lower anatomy were picking up as well. The feel of her shoulder beneath his palm, the texture of satin and lace filtering through the silkiness of her hair, it was an intoxicating combination. He suspected that if he didn’t have a bad leg and she’d ordered him to crawl on the floor next to her he would have done it, no questions asked.

The sound of a doorknob turning reached his ears and he blinked against the soft light that greeted him as she led him into the bedroom. Candles were in every crook and cranny, casting a warm glow over her four-poster bed. _The better to tie you up with, my dear,_ he thought with a mental snort as she led him over to the bed and indicated for him to sit down. She then stepped back and smiled as his eyes took her in.

_Dear God_, he thought, feeling his mouth go dry. No longer the conservatively-attired young doctor he was used to seeing, Cameron was… astounding. Mind-boggling, he thought, taking in the fact that she was wearing a midriff bustier that pushed her breasts up to nearly, but not quite, overflowing; sheer side-tie panties that exposed the shadow of her pubic hair; then finally a lacy garter belt held up black stockings that led down her well-muscled legs to high-heels. Slowly she discarded the sheer lacy wrap, her eyes never leaving his. _Why on earth does she want me?_ he wondered, shaking his head as he lowered his gaze to the floor. He just couldn’t see it.

Cameron stepped over to her dresser and opened the top drawer to extract a small box. For a moment she hesitated, then flipped it open, running her fingertips over the contents. _How would he react?_ she wondered as she extracted the thin gold chain, set aside the box and turned back to him.

“Remove your shirt,” she said softly. Swiftly he did so, his eyes burning into hers as she approached him. “See this, Gregory?” When he nodded she continued, “This is to remind you that for this moment you belong to me.” _No matter what the morning brings_, she added mentally as she reached around to the back of his neck and fastened the clasp. Then she stepped back to take him in, loving the way the chain fell just above his collarbone, accenting his muscular chest and shoulders.

“What do you think of it?” she asked, watching him finger the necklace lightly, an odd expression on his face. Finally he looked back up at her, the blue in his eyes softening.

“At least it’s not all girlie,” House said at last. “And better than a collar,” he snarked, causing her to giggle.

_Now, for the next step in her payback_, Cameron thought as she pulled up the chair her grandmother had given to her. House’s eyes were on her every move as she leisurely settled herself in it, crossing her legs and leaning on one arm with a seductive air. “Now, take off the rest of your clothes,” she commanded with a wave of her hand, repressing a chuckle when his brows drew together.

Slowly he rose to his feet, his gaze dropping to the floor again, doing his best to hold back the flash of anger that went through him. The one thing he hated above all else was displaying the disfigurement of his right thigh. _Dammit, he wished she’d just quit looking at him, perusing his every move like he was a piece of property…_ which he was, for one night. He toed off his socks and shoes, using one bedpost for support, then let his jeans fall to the floor and stepped out of them. _There. Now she could get an eyeful._

“Boxer briefs?”

Was that tenderness in her tone? “Yeah. Boxers let things flop around and regular briefs are too confining.”

That seductive laugh caused his heartbeat to pick up. “Uhm. I can certainly see why. Lose ‘em, Gregory.”

He grit his teeth and dragged his underwear down over his hips, then defiantly sat down to finish removing them. Never mind that he was getting harder by the minute; how it was possible to be pissed off and unbearably aroused he couldn’t comprehend.

“Stand up.”

He glared at her as he grabbed the bedpost for leverage. Something about the look in her eyes made him pause; her expression was heavy-lidded with desire and occasionally she’d pause to wet her lips. _Interesting,_ he thought, feeling a rush of male smugness when her gaze dropped to his cock.

“Very nice,” she breathed, slowly getting to her feet and approaching him. “You’re a very sexy man, Gregory House.”

Once again he couldn’t look at her, feeling a flush mottle his cheeks. “I just don’t see it,” he finally muttered. “I don’t understand.”

“Believe me.” Now she was standing directly in front of him, letting one palm come to rest on the center of his chest. “All strength and power and grace.” Her lips followed her hand and he groaned, burying his face in her silky hair. “All mine.” He heard the slight catch in her voice and pondered its meaning as she stepped back again.

“Lie down, Gregory.”

House eased back onto the bed and stretched out onto his back, feeling anticipation coil within him when she went back to the dresser drawer and pulled out four silk scarves. Slowly she went from post to post, tying each limb, taking caution not to tug on his right leg, finally leaving him spread-eagled and helpless. Now it was his turn to wet his lips as he wondered what lay in store for him.

“Magnificent,” she murmured as she sat next to him on the bed and began slowly, achingly gliding her hands over his chest, pausing to tug on his nipples. Immediately he groaned, trying to arch into her hands. He couldn’t. Instead, he had to lie there and take it, but good God, what he had to take was worth it.

Cameron’s wonderful, soft hands, slender fingertips tracing each muscular outline; up to his face where she smoothed his forehead, across his lips where he dared to flick his tongue at her nails. She smiled and allowed it, then bent her head to his.

God, she tasted wonderful, he thought, almost incoherent as he responded to her tongue devouring his, her teeth tugging at his lips. That warm, lapping tongue began making its way down his neck, pausing to leave a love bite on each clavicle, suck on each nipple. By then he was thrashing, drenched in sweat and sensation. _Trust_. All he had to do was trust her, and look what was happening. His throat tightened and he swallowed it back, moaning, murmuring her name over and over.

When she finally found his cock the murmurs turned into hoarse pleading; shudders overwhelming him as she slid her mouth up and down, her tongue playing along the head, then taking him in again. He longed to tangle his hands in her hair, wanted desperately to bring her hips up to his mouth and have her ride his face, and he couldn’t.

“Mistress, please, I want to…” He growled and threw his head back as she lovingly cupped his balls and rolled them around, her tongue sliding up and down the length of his cock.

“What, Gregory?”

“Want to eat your pussy, Mistress. Please.”

“Really? Most men would rather have …”

“Mistress, I’m not ‘most men.’ Please.”

Cameron rose to her knees, untied her panties and tossed them aside. _Damn, even more beautiful,_ he thought hungrily, taking in a deep breath as she first moved to sit astride his chest, then hooked her legs one at a time under his arms and slowly lowered to his mouth.

With a long growl of appreciation, he flicked tongue out to tease her clit, causing her to gasp and hang onto the headboard like a lifeline. He was good, she thought, whimpering as his tongue slid along her folds, dove into her vagina, nipped at her labia, then gave several long lazy licks from her perineum to her clit. Before long she was trembling, begging, thrusting along his tongue, and he was chuckling.

“Taste so good, baby,” he growled out, taking her swollen bud between his teeth and nipping gently, then licking and sucking. Her taste was starting to change, her fluids dripping along his chin as she rode him and he knew, just knew, that one more… that was it.

Cameron’s world exploded around her and she cried out his name, listening to his soothing words of how hot she was, feeling his soft kisses on her inner thighs. For a long moment she clung to the headboard, tears streaking down her cheeks at the wave of emotion that overtook her. _He didn’t have to do that, _she thought as she finally eased off him. He could have just let her finish him off – she’d been prepared to do that_. Instead…_ she shook her head as she climbed off the bed and began rummaging through his bag for the condoms.

House let out a sigh of relief as she sheathed his cock in latex. He’d gone from aroused to needy while eating her out and knew that with the right moves he would explode inside of her. Then she sat astride him, lifted her hips and began lowering, taking him in inch by aching inch. _Yes_, he thought with a groan, whispering words of encouragement to her. She laughed weakly in response, moving to lean on her hands, her mouth covering his.

Tongues tangled, lips caressed, as they strained closer to completion. Finally, Cameron arched back as spasms wracked her body, her inner walls clamping down on him as she screamed out his name. That was all it took for him. His entire world pooled around his groin, then exploded in a riot of color and heat.

Vaguely he was aware of her untying him, of her gentle hands removing the condom and cleaning him up. Those same hands rubbed the red marks on his ankles and wrists, lightly massaged the tension out of his right thigh. Not that it hurt, he thought muzzily, blinking to keep awake while she blew out the candles.

She sat on the edge of the bed to his left, fumbling with the catches on her bustier until he brushed aside her hands and released it for her.

“Looks great, impossible to sleep in,” she admitted as she stripped off the garter belt and stockings. A squeak of surprise escaped her when he pulled her down next to him, tucked her head onto his chest and pulled the covers over them.

“Get some sleep, Cameron,” he muttered. “You’re gonna need it.”

Worked for her, she decided as she lazily draped herself across his hard body and drifted off to sleep with him.

* * *

_“Pray that it's raining on Sunday_ _  
Stormin' like crazy  
We'll hide under the covers all afternoon  
Baby whatever comes Monday  
Can take care of itself  
'Cause we got better things that we could do  
When it's raining on Sunday” – Keith Urban_

* * *

The feel of a warm body spooned into her backside and the nibble of hot kisses down the side of her neck woke her next. Daylight, she thought, moaning when House flicked his tongue across her pulsepoint. With a lazy stretch she turned in his arms, her throat tightening at the smile that greeted her, the warm, sleepy look in his eyes. Her eyes dropped to the chain that was still around his neck and she reached for it, her hands sliding around to the clasp.

His hand on hers stopped her and he shook his head. “No,” he said quietly.

“Greg, I… don’t want a slave, I mean…”

“I know what you mean,” he said gruffly. “But, you said this means I belong to you, right?” Tears started to spill from her eyelashes as she nodded. “Okay, then.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

_Leave it to Greg to cut to the heart of the matter_, she thought, laughing as he rolled her beneath him and began lazily making love to her.


End file.
